A laugh that smiled
by bwilbur
Summary: And everyone would leave with the memory that there was no place else in the world, and this was where they always belonged."


**A LAUGH THAT SMILED.**

One:** On a balcony, overlooking nothing…**

Elsewhere in Spira, morning dew was collecting and gathering from waxy leaves, and smoothly rolling off of the apathetic faces of the branches, to a proverbial oblivion – the loosely packed dirt, worn and tired from the history of the plethora of feet that had passed across. Failed summoners, temporary denizens, wandering Ronsos, complacent Chimeras. The significance of the insignificance lay in the sheer numbers, and not any old numbers. Numbers in general. After a thousand or so years, Spira hasn't changed the least bit. Different people have came and went, but a million different personalities couldn't change status quo in a large degree. It never did. Rules and, yes, Yevon kept Spira in a neat, single filed line. The line was long, so it was easy to get away with small things – petty theft, the use of machina that condemns you to hell, etceteras. Not that any of it made a difference, though. Looming fear of an eternal evil kept minds shut away, hiding in the thickest corners of skulls, securely covered with a mop of hair.

Despite such, people pressed on. As the saying goes, ignorance is bliss. And that it is. People jumped in glee for a sense of temporary relief, internally large or externally small. People jumped at the first opportunity to nail a smile onto their porcelain faces. Irony made all of Spira go 'round. Internal hypocrisies that clearly could be considered external, in the right light, consumed conformity and sugar coated it after spitting it all out, whole. Which wasn't repulsive because Spira itself consumed. Our soul for the Luca Goers, or the best offer. Take it or leave it.

But, here, in this particular location in Spira (famously and unoriginally dubbed the 'Calm Lands'), the sun was blaring. If it were able to make a sound, it most certainly would deafen everyone. And with the absence of loud music, yet the presence of chocobo calls and distant roars, she hummed to herself. She hummed a small lullaby that she remembered her mom sang to her, every single night she could remember before an incident she could remember even more vividly (but didn't like to). She didn't like thinking about it, and, surprisingly, did a very good job of blocking it out of her head. She spoke the lyrics inside of her head, in a perfect pitch she certainly couldn't reach in _real_ life. What was the use of real life? Life can be a lot more fun if you build and stack on it, just the way you would with lego pieces – the way you like, and the way you wanted it. She liked telling stories of her alternate life. She liked telling stories in general. And drawing. However, she was never the type that liked coloring, so she insisted that her brother help her. After all, he could color neatly in between the lines without overlapping. At all. _Hum_.

Her surroundings were simple. Grass surrounded her and cornered her into a center, and at the very top. But regardless, the grass was still intimidating. She shuffled around nervously. From the horizon in every direction, she saw purple mountain ranges (that weren't purple when you got closer) and Mount Gagazet. The sky was cloudless and a bright shade of baby blue. Nothing was on nor in the sky, except she saw the moon, faded, in an open corner of the sky.

"It could get pretty lonely, no?" she said softly. Whispered echoes consoled her back. She looked back at Mount Gagazet. Oddly enough, it seemed as if every single cloud in the world neglected the sky and hoarded around the no-so-great skinny top of the great mountain. Her lips curved down slightly. "Yeah, I'd get jealous too, y'know."

Her voice was sultrily engaging in the most naïve way. It was almost as if the sky broke out of its usual, uncaring demeanor to sweetly smile in response to her. Of course, she didn't notice, even if it _really_ did, because, now, she was back to the song. This time, she started singing the lyrics out loud. She certainly wasn't the best singer, but her voice still was endearing and pulled at the lyrics until deeper meaning came from its roots.

The lyrics were in Al Bhed. Al Bhed was both a language and race of people that were resented in typical Spiran culture. Al Bhed, to Spirans, was just a word that connoted disgust without much of any thought. '_Just like the word worm_,' she thought to herself. She squirmed. '_Worm. Er, where was I in the song? Oh, forget it_.' She couldn't hum to herself, in the middle of nowhere, all day anyway. She had _obligations_. That was another word that made her squirm.

"I'd rather do nothing than take care of obligations," she scoffed. Her voice made her seem as if she wasn't serious. Actually, she didn't know, even for herself, whether she was serious or not.

"Oh really?" a voice, satiating with accent, inquired. The voice lingered and grew into a crescendo, as did a burning motor. She looked up and saw a stockily built blond man holding onto a machina, one that looked like a large fan on wheels. The man caught her eye and smiled. She stared at his teeth and slightly gaped.

"… Hi Rin," she said in a vapid monotone.

"Why, hello Rikku," Rin made his 'r' roll and linger in the air. It made chills run down her spine. She shuddered. "Why are you here?"

"…Oh." Rikku put a gloved and heavily padded finger onto her chin and took a moment to comprehend his question. The wheeled-fan-machina continued buzzing and crackling loudly "Oh!" she smiled. "Guess what? I'm going on my very first salvage!" No tone of outrage or dissatisfaction hung in her voice. And neither of them noticed.

"Rikku! That's dangerous… aren't you like fourteen?" Rin didn't seem to want a response, as he was too busy pushing the skin of his forehead together in thought. Rikku observed it closely. "Your dad is a great risk taker. He should have learned by now…" Green met green as they both looked at each other for the first time in the discussion. "…I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it."

"'Sok," she tried to say before her voice cracked. She bit her bottom lip. "Ahh… we need to press on as a people. I haveta help Pops with this, because, you know, I'm like the youngest qualified. Doing things for ourselves never was easy, ya know?"

Silence. Rikku, wide-eyed, stared at Rin, determined not to blink or let tears break from her eyes. Rin was looking down as his boots and making a loud "HMMM" sound that kept Rikku composed. He looked up after another moment. "Touché," he slowly said. Rikku nodded, with one of those smiles you can only achieve from nailing them on. Nailing them onto porcelain. "Then you got to go to the center Al Bhed shop, huh? Well, hop on!" he pointed at the machine. Rikku had forgotten it was there although it continued making loud noises. "I have to run some errands myself." He smiled. Rikku counted seven teeth before he closed his mouth again. She held onto the other side of the fan and they were off.

The two didn't look at each other nor talk during the ride. The sound of the motor racing past silence poured around the two, as well as grass coming forth, and at the peak of a hill, the shop stood as a silhouette against the cloudless sky. Rikku gripped harder onto the handles. She could feel her palms sweating, and she utterly loathed the feeling.

The shop was built with recycled bits of machina, and a faded tablecloth shadowed the humidity of the shop. After getting off of Rin's machina, she crawled under the bars forming an intricate entrance, for a shortcut that led directly towards the shop. She skipped towards the cash register. A man she didn't recognize was behind it. Behind the man, several polished machina parts, barrels, and stocks of things such as remedies and potions hung and piled, towering over the man, who didn't look like he could have cared any less.

"Hi!"

"Hullo…" Rikku gave the unenthusiastic man a quizzical look. She tilted her head and took the time to observe him. His hair was light and long – it gave his shape a square-esque shape. Short whiskers covered his thin and flat jaw line. He was wearing a pen-red vest and shorts in the same color. She then looked to savor the one body part she always saved for the last – the eyes. His eyes were focused on Rin's machina parked a short distance away, and, to Rikku's surprise, weren't swirly green. Not even swirly nor green by itself. She continued looking at the man, but this time, she gave him looks. The man was not Al Bhed. And the man was working at one of the most notoriously infamous Al Bhed shops known in all of Spira. Rikku didn't have a problem with this, but it was indeed odd. A regular Spiran would never open him or herself to the Al Bhed so simply. Rikku continued staring at the man. Rikku was the type of person that was very physical – oftentimes, upon first meeting people, she would take a good amount of time observing the person in question – how this person reacted to the simple things in the outside world that were always there, people, any nervous habits. This man, however, stood solemnly. He was like a statue – even his eyes continued staring at Rin's machina, determined not to move one bit. '_He must be very shy_,' she mused. And, unexpectedly, as if he read Rikku's thoughts at that moment, looked directly at Rikku through cocked brows. The sporadic movement on his part made Rikku flinch slightly, and turn away. He scoffed.

"What's wrong? Isn't it just horrible that I'm not one of you?" he said. His voice was deep, but thinly caustic.

"Uh… well, not really! I've never seen anyone who wasn't an Al Bhed working in, y'know, any Al Bhed related shop. Especially one that deals with machina… I…"

"Yeah. So, what do you want?" he started tapping his finger onto the wooden countertop.

Rikku turned around to see in Rin still was there. Although the machina was still humming in the background, there was no sign of Rin. Rikku blinked.

"Well?"

Rikku turned. "Oh. Um… I need to buy a, uhm, scuba uniform. Um, I'm going on a… a salvage." Rikku didn't feel comfortable talking to the man about his father's plans. After all, he wasn't Al Bhed. It wasn't like Rikku was a racist – or, at least, she didn't want to be – but she was paranoid of the man's intentions, because just every other Spiran was a passionate racist.

"What size?"

"Uh. Maybe a youth sized large?"

The man, now, didn't stop watching Rikku as he absentmindedly shoveled through a box to get out a uniform. "Here," he threw it at Rikku. As Rikku examined the suit, he got up to find a scuba system. The suit was made of a tight material and was pink. She unfurled the suit and regarded it, holding it by the shoulders. A shade of peach that matched Rikku's tan complexion covered the suit in certain places – the worst places imaginable. Two round circles stood adjacent, next to each other, in the chest area, and a large circular shape went from the crotch-ish area and extended, from the bottom, up to the butt-ish area. Rikku scowled.

Clunk. The man threw a yellow scuba tank onto the countertop. Rikku held up her outfit for him to see.

"Um… I really don't like the colors, can I switch it with something else?"

The man looked at it, and then laughed. He had a piercing laugh that Rikku didn't really like, it was a laugh you couldn't laugh along with. He stopped to talk. "I'm sorry, that's the only one we had that could fit you," he smirked. Rikku nodded in a way that she knew he knew he didn't believe him. But he didn't say anymore about the matter. "That'll be 6512 Gil."

Rikku gave him a quick but unsatisfactory look, and zipped open a pouch that was velcroed onto her left leg. She took out a couple of Gil notes and threw it onto the countertop. "There," she curtly said.

"Thank you," he said in a honey-dripped voice. "Good luck on your salvage."

Rikku rolled her eyes as she turned to the save point, and stormed towards it, with her suit and scuba gear in hand. Once she reached the save point, she put the things down and put her hand onto it. The save point glowed ominously.

"Pops, I'm done, now _get me out of here_."

"Aye. I'm on my way."

Rikku rolled her eyes, again. Maybe humming would have made her feel better, but she wasn't in the mood.  
**  
bwan**: So, this is the prologue. Whenever I write fanfiction, I try to take myself _very seriously_ by elevating my ego because, well, that's the only real way I get to accomplish anything. Obviously, it's not very effective at all, if you look at the stories I've authored. I've given up on fanfiction time and time again, but I'm back. This might sound stupid, but music influenced me to continue writing fanfiction. Music taught me the beauty of personification, alliteration, etceteras. Hopefully the use of those sappy tools will make my fanfiction better than it has ever been, maybe not. But, due to the influence of music, my stories will have links towards the music that has influenced me. This whole fic will indirectly be influenced by a band called Against Me, and will be directly influenced by a certain someone else who will never ever have a clue. Le sigh.

This is a Rikku fic. I'm aiming for it to be a fluffy romance between Rikku and a certain other someone. The couple I have in mind has always been a favorite of mine, and it's just so endearing. Even if the next chapter leans toward a couple you despise (or a couple you love. YOU NEVER KNOW :D:D:DDDD), stay tucked. Rikku is a teenager and her lust fluctuates. 'Tis the beauty of younguns. (myself included, of course.)

…**AND IT'S SO MUCH LESS CONFUSING WHEN LINES ARE DRAWN LIKE THAT.**


End file.
